


Like Honey

by dirtymudblood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Play, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Hermione Granger, Blood and Violence, Cinnamon Roll Theodore Nott, Double Penetration, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy Racial Issues, Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Character Death, Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Toxic Behaviors, Voyeurism, War Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtymudblood/pseuds/dirtymudblood
Summary: They love him. They love him so much that they hate each other.Or do they?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Comments: 155
Kudos: 524





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).



> I have no business starting another multichapter right now, but for LadyKenz I will make an exception. She gave me this plunny last night and I couldn't stop writing. 
> 
> This will probably have sporadic updates, but I'm very excited to dip my toes into triads!
> 
> Unbeta'd so excuse the many (probably) errors throughout.

Hermione checked her wristwatch. 

9:42 p.m 

She bit her thumbnail. Where were they? 

9:43 p.m

They were due back by now, weren’t they? This was to be a quick mission to Malfoy Manor to scope out the wards. No more than a few hours, they said. Back before 10. 

9:46 p.m

Teddy screeched noisily from his cot. Hermione laid a soothing hand over his tummy, rubbing her thumb in soft circles over his naval. She cooed gently, willing him to fall back to sleep. He was hungry, she could tell by the way he opened and closed his mouth silently, blindly looking for a breast to latch onto. 

“It’s alright, sweet boy, mummy will be back soon.”

9:53 p.m 

Hermione sighed in frustration. She should be out there alongside them. She was the best trained at healing spells. But Tonks was a close relation to the Malfoy bloodline through Narcissa and Draco, meaning she would be able to surpass any blood curses or traps along the property. Meaning Hermione was to stay behind with Teddy. 

She grumbled, smoothing the baby’s dark hair from his face. 

9:56 p.m 

Sudden explosions of loud popping sounds came from outside. Hermione counted each one: Harry, Ron, Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, Moody, Arthur, and another she couldn’t quite place. Pressing herself against the window of the Lupin family’s room that overlooked the garden of the Burrow, Hermione watched the familiar figures scramble around a hunched figure. 

Hermione pressed herself closer, trying to distinguish who it could be. 

Had other members of the Order met them there? 

The figures were guided through the door and Hermione scrambled down the stairs. Tonks was already halfway up when they passed each other. 

Her vibrant pink hair was limp and sweaty, clinging to the dirt around her temple. 

“Teddy?” 

“Sleeping,” Tonk’s shoulders sagged. Hermione couldn’t imagine the terror of being a mother in this world, in these circumstances. Not knowing if you would ever return home to your child. “But he’s hungry. I forgot to ask you to leave milk.”

Tonks nodded, going to speak but was interrupted by more shouting from below. 

“What happened? Who’s here?” 

Tonks sighed, rubbing a dirty hand across her forehead and looking up longingly at the closed door to her baby. “Long story that I’ll explain later, I promise. But they’ll be needing you downstairs I’m sure.”

“Who--”

She was already gone, a piercing scream of Teddy being woken from his slumber coming from the now open door. 

Hermione followed the voices downstairs into the kitchen, where everyone's backs were turned to her and prevented her from seeing the table they were surrounding. 

“You have to let him go so we can help him.” Harry’s familiar, concerned voice. 

“Fuck off.” A less obvious, venomous voice answered back. 

It descended into chaos again, voices shouting back and forth at each other. Hermione pressed her shoulders between Ron and Harry and pushed her way into the circle. 

_ “What--”  _ she gasped at the sight before her. 

Blood, lots of it. Too much of it. Soaking into the rough wood of the table and dripping onto the plush tops of the seats. The body that lay on top was almost unrecognizable between the bruising of its face and the slashes across its chest. 

But the man next to it, practically covering the body with his own, was undeniably Draco Malfoy. 

“So nice of you to join us, Granger.” Malfoy hissed. 

His almost white blonde hair was stained pink with blood. Was it his own or this figure? There was a deep gash across his cheek and down his neck into the collar of his blood soaked shirt. 

“What’s going on? Who is that?” Hermione ignored Malfoy and turned to Ron. 

“ _ That,”  _ Ron pointed to the body. “Is Theodore Nott. Malfoy won’t let us touch him. Even though we’re  _ trying  _ to help.”

“I’ve seen your wand work, Wealsey,” Malfoy scoffed, a splatter of blood coming from his mouth. “You’d just make it worse.” 

He pointed at Hermione. “Her.  _ Only  _ her. The rest of you can fuck off.” 

Hermione sprang into action, unholstering her wand and waving it across Nott’s abdomen. She tried to ignore the incentent shouts of her friends and the hissing responses of Malfoy as she worked. 

He had three broken ribs, one of which punctured into his lung. A ruptured liver. Internal bleeding. It was a miracle he was alive. 

Hermione smoothed dark, curly hair away from his bruised face. She remembered him only vaguely from Hogwarts. A friend of Malfoys, quieter than Pansy but more intelligent than Crabbe or Goyle. They shared a few NEWT level classes, but he never spoke a word to her or about her. 

“You’re lucky we even brought you here, Malfoy. Should have left you there to rot like you deserve,” Ron pointed a finger in Malfoy’s face.

He swatted it away, “I’m sure mummy would be very disappointed with your hospitality, Weasel.” 

“ _ Please,”  _ Hermione snapped. “All of you: out. I can’t work like this.” 

“I’m not leaving you alone with Malfoy,” Ron crossed his arms over his chest even as Harry tried to usher him away. 

“I’m not leaving Theo.” 

Hermione looked up from Nott’s bloody face. Malfoy’s jaw was set, his teeth grinding into each other. Their eyes met for a long moment over the table. There was something there in Malfoy’s gaze that she had never seen before. Vulnerability. 

“Ron,” she began, not looking away from Malfoy’s face. “It’s fine. Malfoy can stay.”

“But--” 

“Come on, Ron,” Harry grumbled. “Let her work.” 

Between Harry and Arthur, they had finally pulled him out of the kitchen, leaving just Malfoy and Hermione standing over Theo’s body. 

“I…” He licked his lips, blood sticking to the crevices in his lips. “Thanks, Granger.”

Hermione nodded, clearing her throat. “If you’re going to stay, you have to help. Do you have your wand?”

He pulled out his wand and Hermione tried not to flinch at the splintering wood as he gripped it in his hand. Whatever happened at Malfoy Manor, it would have to wait until later.

“Alright, swish your wand like this…”

* * *

By the time they were done, both Hermione and Malfoy were sweating and panting profusely. Hermione could feel her magic pulsing and draining, leaving her fatigued and tired. She could only imagine how Malfoy was feeling, already having been worn out from whatever occurred in his home.

But he didn’t complain, not once. He followed all her directions carefully, even taking over when she went to collect water to wash Theo’s abdomen. 

Hermione’s clothing was almost completely covered in blood. Sticky and warm and smelling of metal. 

She ran a shaky hand over her brow. “He’s stable now. We’ll move him to a bed and he’ll need to rest for a few days to regain his strength.”

Malfoy nodded, his eyelashes fluttering softly in exhaustion. “I’m staying with him.”

It wasn’t a question, but Hermione nodded anyway. “Charlie’s room has a recliner you can use for now. It’s where Ginny has been staying, but she and Molly are in Cornwall with Fleur and Bill.”

Malfoy didn’t even pretend to seem like he was listening. Instead he was running his hand over Theo’s arm in a gesture that Hermione could only describe as tender. She looked away for a moment, feeling like an intruder in this moment. 

“Come on, let’s get him up to bed.”

Malfoy’s hand shook as he tried to cast a levitation spell.

“Here, let me.  _ Leviosa.” _

Theo’s limp body lifted from the table and suspended in midair. Hermione guided her want in front of her to move him up the stairs. 

Ron was lounging in the adjacent living room, snoring loudly. Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled weakly. Of course he hadn’t actually left her alone. 

She didn’t bother to turn on the lights in Charlie’s room. The window was just parallel to the moon, which cast enough light for her to navigate Theo onto the bed. 

She heard Malfoy fall into the plush seat in the corner on unsteady knees. 

“I’ll do it.” He insisted as Hermione lifted the blankets around Theo’s chin.

Hermione tutted and walked to stand in front of him, kneeling between Malfoy’s knees.    
“Wha’are you doing?” He protested as she took out her wand again, but his voice was weak with exhaustion. His hand came up to close around her wrist, but his grip was too loose to stop her from moving. 

Hermione blushed at the contact.

“I’m fixing your cut,” she gestured to his face with her wand. “If we don’t close it, it could get infected.” 

Malfoy nodded softly, his eyes already falling closed as she worked. She watched his skin stitch together tightly. It would leave a nasty scar down his face and around his jaw, but Hermione took little pleasure in that face. 

When she was finished, she made to stand up again and leave him to sleep, but gasped softly when she spotted his eyes open and assessing her carefully. In the moonlight, they looked like two sparkling, deep holes of black on his marred face. 

She was frozen as he lifted his hand to his mouth, licking his thumb, and pressing it to her brow. She gasped again as the sticky saliva removed the remnants of blood that she had wiped on herself. His hand dropped suddenly and Hermione heard a deep snore, Malfoy finally succumbing to his exhaustion. 

On shaking knees she stood, draping a nearby comforter over his shoulders. She closed the door tightly behind her, pressing her back against it and closing her eyes tightly. She breathed out a shuddering breath before making her way back down the stairs, past a still sleeping Ron. 

She spent the rest of the night scrubbing the table of Theo’s blood until the sun peeked up over the horizon. She fell asleep that way, or at least she remembered falling asleep there. But when she awoke that afternoon, she was in bed. 

Curiously, not hers.


	2. Chapter 2

“Morning, Hermione. How’d you sleep?” 

Hermione stifled a yawn, slumping into a seat at the table. Between her magic and the thorough scrubbing, the table looked good as new. As if a man had not been dying on top of it mere hours ago. 

“Alright,” she shrugged weakly. “We didn’t finish until late. It was touch and go for a while.”

“Ron,” he paused with a forkful of eggs in his mouth. There was a nasty bruise beginning to purple around his eye that Hermione made a mental note to heal later. “Did you move me last night after I fell asleep?”

He swallowed his bite. “No, I feel asleep on the couch and by the time I got up, the table was clean and you were all gone. Why?”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. How strange.

“Nothing, no reason. I must have just been more exhausted than I thought.”

Except that didnt fit. She had been staying in the same room at the Burrow since she was 12. She could navigate there blindfolded and deafened. So how had she ended up in Ron’s room? 

“You should eat something,” Tonks gestured pointedly with her chin to the layout of foods on the table. “Your magic must be screaming at you.”

Hermione flexed her hand, feeling the tingles of magic in her fingertips. Overexhaustion of her magic was not something she was unfamiliar with, but she needed to build up her stamina if she was to be useful.

“I’m fine, it wasn’t all on me. Malfoy helped—“

“Bullshit!” Ron interjected, his mouth full of food. 

Tonks hissed. “Language, Ronald.”

“Sorry, Teddy,” Ron rolled his eyes at the sleeping baby in his mother’s arms. “But I mean, come off it. _Malfoy?_ Malfoy wouldn’t help a baby bird out of the road.”

Hermione hummed, piling various foods onto a plate. She thought of Malfoy’s face as he worked over his friend. Sweat over his brow and dedication in the set of his jaw, even as his own wound bled.

“Even so, I’m going to check on Nott. When I come back I want to hear what happened last night.”

She gave a pointed look between Ron and Tonks as she finished loading the plate and ascended the stairs. 

Balancing the plate and her wand in one hand, she jiggled the doorknob to find it locked. 

She swore softly under her breath and pounded on the door with her free hand. “Malfoy, open up.”

There was no answer.

“Malfoy,” she pounded on the door again. “Let me in.”

“Fuck off, Granger.” Came a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

Hermione grumbled. In another circumstance, she would have used her wand to break down the door. But the magic in her fingertips thrummed weakly, still overexerted. She curled the hand into a first and banged again.

“I have to check his vitals--”

“I’ll do it myself.”

Hermione scoffed, a disbelieving sound she hoped he could hear through the door. “Do you even know _how?”_

There was only silence from the other side.

“That’s what I thought. He’s weak, Malfoy, too weak for you to be testing your healing abilities on him. Let me in so I can help.” 

The silence lasted a moment longer. Hermione ground her teeth. Had he walked away from the door? Was he pretending he didn’t hear her now? 

She started when the door swung open suddenly, Draco’s large frame looming over her in the entryway. She had forgotten the scar that now twisted down his face, a feature that made his pointed, shadowed features more prominent and, perhaps to someone else, more menacing. 

Hermione stuck her chin up at him, meeting his slit gaze from more than a foot below him. “Well?”

He grumbled, slinking his frame against one side of the doorway to let her pass and closed the door behind them. 

“This is for you.”

Hermione shoved the plate of food into his sternum, causing him to reflexibly grab it out of her hands. He sneered down at the plate. “Who eats eggs in the afternoon?”  
Hermione shrugged, unholstering her wand. “It’s what we have. We can’t just walk into Diagon Alley for groceries,” she gave him a pointed look. “As I’m sure you know.”

Malfoy dropped his gaze back to the plate, his sneer more of an awkward grimace now. 

With Dumbledore gone, killed at the hands of Snape at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s behest, it was easy for the Death Eaters to gain control over Hogwarts and subsequently the Ministry. 

Harry became undesirable number one. Cloaked figures posted on every corner trying to scour out The Boy Who Lived and his companions, Weasley and the Mudblood. And while Harry’s bulletin specified that he must be returned alive, no such instructions were made for those affiliated with him. 

Hermione had spent the majority of the night scrubbing lost in thought. The younger Malfoy was not on the Order’s radar, nor could Hermione think of any instance where Theodore Nott was mentioned. Beyond Malfoy’s orders to kill Dumbledore, they had agreed he was too little of a threat to be considered seriously. 

She and Harry had spent more than one sleepless night pondering Malfoy’s motives for lowering his wand. 

“He probably knew the other were right behind him and he wouldn’t have to do the dirty work,” Ron argued countlessly before rolling over and falling into a fitful sleep. 

While he dozed, over the sound of his light snored, she and Harry had come to their own conclusions. 

He was scared, she thinks. Not understanding the ramifications of taking a life before it was truly in his hands. He was a child, she thinks. 

Harry was more forgiving, as Harry is. “I think he knew it was wrong. I think he was going to take Dumbledore’s help.” 

But these were conversations to pass the time. Malfoy was now a distant figure in their childhood while they moved onto more pressing, urgent monsters. 

Now here he was again.

While Hermione wrung out the seating covers of Nott’s blood she considered a few pieces of information. 

The first, that the Order had brought Nott back to their safehouse to be healed. Not to Fleur in Shell Cottage or Luna back in Scotland. They brought him to the central location of the Order to be healed by _her._

The second, they had brought Malfoy with them. Malfoy who was very much able bodied. Malfoy who now knew the location of undesirable number one. Malfoy who still had his wand. 

Hermione looked back at Malfoy who was stabbing the eggs on his plate violently, looking at them suspiciously. Whatever had happened in Malfoy Manor had convinced the Order of Draco’s intentions. But what was it?

“For God’s sake, they’re not poisoned,” Hermione snapped, snatching the fork from his hand and shoving a bite into her mouth, chewing and swallowing dramatically. “There. See?”

She turned her attention to the figure on the bed. The bruising on his face was deeper now the morning after. His head was propped up higher than she had left him. A quick peek from her peripheral to Malfoy who sat in the recliner, scarfing down almost the entire plate of food already, confirmed that he had used the pillow Hermione had left him with to prop up Nott. Her mouth twitched to the side. How interesting. 

Turning her attention back to the man on the bed, she ran her thumb over a particularly nasty patch of purpled skin on his cheek. She still had some essence of dittany left. If she used it sparingly she could stretch out the cream until she had the opportunity to make more. 

She pulled the covers to his waist and lifted his shirt, trying not to flinch at the complete mutilation of his torso, almost completely covered in purple skin and protruding varicose veins. She flicked her wand over his stomach, muttering incantation after incantation. She breathed a sigh of relief when the blue lights twinkled brightly over his body. 

“Well?” Malfoy implored with a mouthful of food. 

“It looks worse than it is, fortunately. His heartbeat and magic are strong. He’s still weak, but he should be up in a day or two.” Hermione rummaged through her bag, pulling out the dittany and a wash cloth while she heard Malfoy let out a rather short exhale through his nose, as if he was holding his breath. 

“I can do that.” He insisted when she began to clean off Nott’s face. 

Hermione stared at him for a moment. Was it because he didn’t trust her to care for his friend? 

“Okay,” she said carefully. “Come here.”

Malfoy was by her side in a second as she instructed him to wash the swollen areas and apply the dittany in slow, shallow circles. 

She almost, _almost_ felt a twinge of empathy for him as his hand passed over a soft spot on his friend’s ribcage and felt his fingertip sink into the wound slightly. 

“Is that good?” Malfoy rubbed his nose with his forearm. 

Hermione assessed his carefully. “That should do for now. I’ll come back tonight and you can apply more.”

She gathered her things and made for the door. 

“What if you just leave the cream here and I’ll do it?” 

Hermione turned back to look at him. He was standing over his friend, his hands flexing at his sides. 

“Is there some reason you insist on me not caring for him, even though I’ve proven to be good at it?”

His hands flexed into a fist. “I don’t want you to touch him.” 

Hermione felt bubbles of anger boiling in her stomach. So that _is_ what it was about. Precious Malfoy doesn’t want the Mudblood’s magic to muddy up his precious pureblood friend. 

“Malfoy,” she said calmly, even as a storm raged in her chest. “He was brought here to be cared for by _me._ And for whatever reason they brought you along. _You_ are the outlier here, not me. I don’t give a damn what you think of me or my magic.”

He turned to face her, his mouth opening to interrupt. She didn’t give him the chance. 

“Make no mistake, Malfoy. If it was up to me, you’d be nice and cozy at home rotting alongside You-Know-Who. But I trust Harry’s judgement to bring you here. And even if I didn’t, I trust that Tonks would not bring you to a place that would put her son in danger. I’m helping your friend because they’ve asked me to. But if you rather I leave him to the mercy of _your_ healing, be my guest.”

She swung open the door, her hand white knuckling around the doorknob. 

“I’ll be back later when you decide,” she stepped through the door, pulling it almost closed behind her. “I’ll bring you dinner. I’m guessing it’ll be eggs again.” 

* * *

Hermione was greeted by a familiar face in the living room, skimming through a magazine mindlessly. 

“Ginny? What are you doing back so soon?” 

The girl peeked up over the top of the pages, her eyes widening as she slapped it into her lap. 

“Is it true Malfoy and Theodore Nott are here?” 

Hermione sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with two fingers. Hello to you too, Ginny. Yes I’m doing well, how are you? 

“Yes, they’re in your… er, Charlie’s old room. How did you find out so quickly?”

Ginny pushed her long hair behind her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Dad sent us a patronus in the middle of the night last night. All the safe house heads were told to meet here urgently. I tagged along with Bill to see if it was true. What do you think happened?”

Hermione bit the side of her mouth. How interesting. The last time they had called all the safe house heads to headquarters was when Dumbledore was killed. 

“Not sure,” Hermione responded. “Do you remember Nott at all from school?”

Ginny pursed her lips in thought. “Only in passing. He was on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Not the best, but a good rider. Always around Malfoy, even more than those two oafs Crabbe and Goyle.” 

Hermione nodded, trying to recall Nott outside of classes. 

“Hermione?”

Both girls turned to the sound of Harry’s voice in the kitchen doorway, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He gave a little wave at his waist to Ginny, who blushed and looked back down at the magazine in her lap. 

“They want to see you.”

Hermione sighed and nodded, feeling entirely too drained between the exhaustion of her magic and multiple interactions with Malfoy. 

The kitchen was packed. Bill and Arthur sat at opposite ends of the table with Moody, Kingsley, Xeno Lovegood, Percy, and the twins seated in the remaining seats. Ron was perched on the counter with Lupin and Tonks standing off to the side. They all spoke in low, urgent whispers until Harry and Hermione entered, where they all turned their attention to them. 

“Hello, Hermione.” Xeno greeted her with a friendly face, so much like his daughter. 

Hermione offered him a thin smile. 

“How’s the Nott kid?” Moody interjected. 

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “Broken ribs, lost a lot of blood. We got him stable and he should wake in a few days if I continue treatment. Does anyone care to tell me how he came to be this way? And how he and Malfoy ended up here?”

The room was silent until Tonks cleared her throat. “There was a slight… miscalculation in our plan.”  
Ron scoffed loudly, looking off to the side and rolling his eyes.   
“As in?” Hermione pressed.   
“Vol- _He_ has set up in Malfoy Manor. It’s the headquarters for all Death Eaters now.”

Hermione gasped, her eyes almost bulging out of her head. Her heart raced. This was more than a miscalculation. They had led Harry into _His_ territory unknowingly with perhaps dozens of Death Eaters surrounding them. 

“And?”  
Tonks looked sheepishly at her husband. “Dora was able to pass the blood wards as we expected. But it seemed to be more complex than we had expected. It let us through but notified them right away--”

“Just admit it was a bloody trap that we fell into,” Ron said angrily. “They knew we would come and they knew when we were there.”

“Ron,” Arthur scolded his son and then turned back to Hermione. “Theodore was the first to find us. We thought for sure he was going to alert the others…”

“But?” Hermione shook her head disbelievingly, her heart still racing in her throat. 

“He didn’t,” Harry offered from next to her. “He… well he offered to lead us out. They put up anti-apparation wards almost immediately after the alarm went off. The only way out was to get off the property. He led us out to the garden and we were almost out when…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, some Death Eaters had spotted us. We couldn’t see who, they had their masks on, but there were more of then than there were of us. We thought--” he cleared his throat again, “We thought that was it. They got Nott pretty good. I didn’t even recognize the spell, but then all of a sudden Malfoy, er, _Draco_ that is-- a little confusing given the house I suppose-- comes up from behind and starts to stun them. I don’t know. He was screaming something. But then he picks up Nott and led us off the property before the rest of the Death Eaters arrived.”

Hermione was silent, her mouth parted slightly and her head shaking on its own accord. That was close. _Too_ close. She should have been there, she would have done… _something._

“If young Malfoy wasn’t there,” Xeno offered, a finger to his chin. “I suppose this would have all been over.”

The impact of that statement weighed heavily across the room, a thick, tense silence engulfing them. 

Malfoy, what are you playing here?

“So now what?” Hermione shook her head. “When Nott wakes up and we’re of no use to them? They return to Malfoy Manor, give away our safe house location? Put us _all_ in danger? Malfoy is a _coward,_ he’ll run home to his mummy and we’ll all be dead.”

“Here, here.” Ron snorted in agreement. 

Half the room was soothing responses while the other half threw various arguments onto the table. 

“Enough,” Kingsley’s voice boomed, effectively ending all conversation. “Enough. Even if he wanted to return home, do you think they’d let them return? Two boys who used their magic against their own side and let Harry escape?”

Hermione chewed into her bottom lip.

“We are the only thing separating those two from the wrath of You-Know-Who now. We _use_ that,” Kingsley goes on, “Malfoy will know the manor like the back of his hand. If we’re right and there’s a Horcrux there, he’ll know where to find it.” 

Hermione licked her lips. “And in return?”

Moody shrugged, his fake eye seeming to blaze through her. “They live.”

* * *

The door was locked again when Hermione arrived, a new plate of eggs in her hands. 

After the meeting she had excused herself to the bathroom, using the entirety of the hot water as she obsessively scrubbed her skin raw and found herself sitting on the floor of the tub, her knees to her chest as she sobbed. 

No one said anything or complained about the lack of comfortable water temperature when she emerged. Xeno, Moody, Kingsley, Bill, and Kingsley were gone by the time she had returned to the dining room to retrieve food for Malfoy. 

Her wet hair soaked into her thin nightshirt as she rapped gently on the door. 

“Malfoy?”

Perhaps it was too late. Maybe he had already gone to sleep. But the yellow light under the door said the lamp was still on. 

After speaking with Kingsley, it was apparent that it was out of Hermione or Malfoy’s hands who would be caring for him. She had to make sure he survived, for the fate of the Order. 

But then the door creaked open just slightly and Hermione entered. Malfoy stood, his arms crossed and his jaw set, just feet from the door. The oil lamp illuminated the room and the thick, jagged scar on his face. Perhaps she should offer him some of her dittany. 

“Here’s your food,” Hermione attempted to pass the plate to him but he kept his arms crossed. 

“Doesn’t he need to eat, too?” He looked over nervously to his side where Nott laid motionless. 

“He’ll be fine. I’ve been siphoning him water with some supplements. His body is too weak to take food manually. _You_ on the other hand,” she held the plate out pointedly. “need this.” 

He took it begrudgingly, slumping back into cushioned seat to dig into the food greedily. 

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, beginning her vital checks and ministrations once more. When she was done, she held out the cloth and dittany to Malfoy. 

“Would you like to?”

He swallowed his bite, assessing the items in her hands carefully. 

“No. You can do it.”

Hermione quirked a brow, but didn’t argue with his sudden shift in mood. Nott’s chest looked better from the cream sitting on his skin for only a few hours. She hummed softly as she worked, the sound mixing with the scrapes of Malfoy’s fork against the plate as he ate. 

When she was finished, she tucked the boy back under the comforter and waited for Malfoy’s protest that never came. 

“All done.” 

He said nothing as she cleaned off her hands and packed her bag, but stopped her as she reached to grab his empty plate by taking hold of her wrist. Her first instinct was to reach for her wand with her other hand, but she was frozen. 

“What I said before, it’s not because you’re a Mudblood,” Hermione didn’t even flinch at the word. “I know your magic is good. Just so you know.”

He let go of her arm, turning his face to gaze at his friend who was blissfully unaware of any of this. Without another word, she left. 

As soon as she was out, the light under the door disappeared. She stared at the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door.

Malfoy, what _are_ you playing at?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing. Thank you so much for the support on this fic <3


	3. Chapter 3

Theodore was not awake on the third day, nor the fourth day, and the effects of which were evident in the gradual tightening of Malfoy’s jaw and the deepening sneer that greeted Hermione each time she dared venture into their shared room to check Nott’s vitals.

“You said he’d be awake by now.”

Hermione sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead. The blue light above Nott’s abdomen showed steady, healthy vitals. “I said he  _ should  _ be awake by now, not that he  _ would.  _ Magic only extends so far, Malfoy, I can’t  _ make  _ him wake up—“

Malfoy snorted, biting violently into a forkful of eggs. “ _ Your  _ magic only extends so far, you mean.” 

Hermione whirled around, her wand steady in her hand and the blue vital light suddenly vanishing. “ _ Excuse  _ you?”

It had been this way for the past two days. Hermione would visit, check Nott’s vitals, and endure a long string of passive insults from Malfoy. She had half a mind to separate Malfoy into a different room, but was too weary of those consequences. 

Malfoy’s plate clattered as he disposed of it on the dresser and stood, meeting Hermione at eye level from across the room. 

“Is there really no one else who can take over here? Someone, I don’t know, more  _ experienced?” _

Hermione felt a hiss begin in the back of her throat and her hand white knuckling around her wand. 

“I have  _ experience _ , you pompous ferret. Unlike  _ you _ , I’ve actually had to deal with the consequences of the war, not lounge about in my mansion eating scones and sipping tea with  _ You-Know-Who.” _

Malfoy’s sneer turned into a snarl, his own hands clenching at his sides as if he were considering reaching for his wand. “Fuck you, Granger. You have  _ no  _ idea what it was like in there.” 

Hermione scoffed, almost a piercing screech that bounced off the walls and made Malfoy wince. “ _ I  _ have no idea? What was the worst part, Malfoy? The afternoon strolls in the gardens being a tad too chilly or not enough salt in your beef stew?” 

Malfoy advanced forward, a growl ripping from his clenched teeth. “Go  _ fuck— _ “

Hermione lifted her wand, stopping Malfoy in his pursuit. “Back off, Malfoy. You touch me and you and your  _ friend  _ are gone, awake or not.”

He stood completely still, but his nostrils still flared and twitched. 

“I am completely able to take care of him, Malfoy. No matter what you think of me or my magic.” 

Only an arms length away, her wand nearly touching his chest, they stared each other down. Both eyes set into slits and their breaths coming in short pants from their noses. 

He opened his mouth to say something, probably something demeaning about her magic or her blood, when a rustle came from behind her back. 

“Draco?” 

Malfoy’s eyes blew wide, his mouth dropping open to match Hermione’s sudden gasp as she turned. 

Malfoy brushed past her, his upper arm grazing her shoulder as he bumped her to the side. She would have been enraged by the shove, if not for the relief that flooded her at the sight of an awake, and seemingly coherent, Theodore Nott.

He was licking his teeth and his lips, no doubt trying to restore moisture to his mouth from such a long time without water. 

His face was no longer as swollen or bruised as before, thanks to the dittany, and instead Hermione could see the flush of restored life on his cheeks. His curly, dark hair was sticking out on all ends and flat in the back from his prolonged position on the pillows. 

And when he looked over Malfoy’s shoulder to meet her eyes, Hermione sucked in a breath. Bright and gold, almost red, with a dark line of black surrounding his irises. They were like honey swirling in a cup of rooibos tea. 

“Granger?” His nose and mouth scrunched up in confusion, although not unfriendly. “What are you doing here? Where are we?”

Hermione licked her own lips, swallowing the lump in her throat and opening her mouth to speak before Malfoy interrupted her. “Weasley’s hovel. They took us here after your  _ display  _ in the gardens, you’ve been out for four days now.” 

Before Hermione could defend her friends home and remind Malfoy that the only reason they were  _ alive  _ is because they were brought to this “hovel”, Theo spoke.

“Merlin, Draco, what crawled up your arse and died?” He turned his face to look back over at Hermione. “Has he been like this the entire time?” 

Hermione blinked while Draco looked away sheepishly. She cleared her throat, “Isn’t he always?”

She didn’t mean it as a joke, but Nott laughed even as Draco turned a new sneer towards her. He coughed unexpectedly, his lungs itching from overexertion. 

Hermione quickly conjured up a glass of water at the same time that Malfoy did, both extending their arms to offer their glasses to him. 

Hermione blushed as Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at her and she took a sip of hers instead while Nott gulped greedily at Malfoy’s offering.

“I'd like to check you out if you don’t mind.”

Nott stopped mid-sip and Hermione’s eyes widened, her jaw loose as she tried to form words.    
“Check  _ on  _ you, I mean. That’s what I meant.” 

Nott turned a questioning look to Malfoy, whose face was passive and unamused. 

“Granger has been taking your charge,” he stated simply. “Against my wishes, I might add.”

Nott’s lips formed a wide ‘O’ before giving Hermione a bright smile.    
“Of course, of course. I insist, actually. I’d like to know if I’ll be making it out of this bed sooner or later.”

Hermione joined Malfoy at the side of the bed, but the blonde made no move to leave his friend's side. Instead, he stood pressed against her. 

“Shut it, Theo,” Malfoy snapped. “Don’t speak like that. You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine, won’t he, Granger?”

The way Malfoy’s voice went up just a tad too high at the end exposed just a piece of the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy. He was worried, worried for his friend. It was something Hermione could empathize with. How many times had Harry and Ron left for missions and she counted every second until they were back? It was very… human of him. 

Hermione even indulge him with, what she hoped was, a warm smile. 

“He’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. I just want to make sure everything is healing properly is all.”

Malfoy didn’t budge from his position and Hermione shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to force him away from his friend and equally needing the space to look over Nott properly. 

“Do you mind, Draco?” Theo snorted. “The lady is trying to check me out.” 

Malfoy grunted, but moved away all the same. Hermione blushed at Nott’s choice of words, but he gave her a small smirk and eye roll in the direction of Malfoy. She couldn’t help but smile, had he always been this way? Surely someone as witty and gentle as Theodore Nott wouldn’t be hanging around the likes of Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione cleared her throat. “Are you able to sit up by yourself?”

On shaking elbows, Nott pushed himself up into a sitting position, which was really just leaning more upwards on the stack of pillows. Out of her peripheral view, she could see Malfoy move forward slightly as if he was going to help, but held himself back. 

He winced in pain and swallowed thickly. “I can, I don’t enjoy it though.” 

Hermione gave a small, empathetic tutting sound. “As to be expected I’m afraid. You were in quite a state when you arrived.” 

Nott looked quickly over to Malfoy in the corner and back down to the blanket covering his lap sheepishly. “I don’t remember. What was wrong with me?”

“Broken ribs, a punctured lung, and internal bleeding to name a few,” Hermione listed off as she waved her wand over his abdomen and watched the vitals appear in blinking blue light. They were stronger now that he was awake, his heart pumping faster and his breathing increasing. All good signs. 

She swished her wand and the light disappeared.

“I-- do you mind removing your shirt?” 

Malfoy grunted again, this time a tad louder, while Nott gingerly lifted his shirt from his body without question. She had seen his body before, of course, after nearly a week of caring for him. But it looked different now as he moved and his muscles flexed and twitched in his torso. 

Hermione cleared her throat and, with great effort, her mind of such inappropriate thoughts.

“Thank you,” Hermione laid a palm over one pectoral muscle, letting her fingertips press lightly into the skin. “Now tell me if this hurts.” 

One inch after another Hermione moved her hand down, pressing lightly into the healed spots on his abdomen. She knew she was blushing and tried to hide it by ducking her head and pretending to concentrate on her inspection. 

When he suddenly hissed at a particularly sore spot on his side, Hermione’s breath hitched. “Sorry. That hurt?” 

“Like a cunt,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “ _ Fuck.” _

Hermione wrinkled her nose. The pair of them made a filthy mouthed match. 

“I don’t think your rib has healed fully quite yet. I’ll try to acquire some ingredients for Skelegrow to make it easier, but no promises,” she hosteled her wand and rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. “Other than that you seem perfectly fine. You must be famished by now, but we aren’t expecting dinner for another few hours,” she peered at Malfoy from the side of her eyes. “We’ve seemed to run out of eggs faster than usual.” 

Nott waved his hands in dismissal. “I’ll be fine, fine. I can wait.” 

Hermione gave him a gentle, thankful smile. “I’ll leave you to rest then.” 

Before she could exit, a hand shot out to grab her wrist. While at first she thought it might be Nott, she was startled to find that Malfoy had crossed the room to grab hold of her. Was it really necessary to touch her so much?

“Can I help you?”

“I…” Malfoy poked his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, something Hermione wished she could say she did not watch him do. “He’s awake. I expect you’ll be telling everyone he is.”

“I will.” Hermione answered slowly, her tone questioning. 

“Well, what will happen to us?” Malfoy gave a look over his shoulder at Nott, who was fiddling with the bed covers absentmindedly. Pretending he wasn’t listening intently for her answer. “What will they do with us now?”

Hermione paused for a moment. “I don’t… I don’t know.” 

It was the truth, but really it wasn’t. She did know, at least to an extent. Kingsley had made it perfectly clear, in fact. However, she wasn’t about to disclose that to Malfoy with his hand around her arm and her wand in her boot. 

He released her with a tight nod and returned to his chair, giving no indication that the conversation would continue and so without a word, Hermione took her leave. 

Outside the door, Hermione pressed her back against the opposite wall and let out a shuddering sigh. Putting her hand to her chest to feel the rapid beat of her heart under her fingertips. 

“Oh  _ Gods.”  _

* * *

Hermione could hear Mrs. Weasley yelling before she even made it to the kitchen. She passed Harry and Ron who were playing a casual game of Wizards chess and gave them an inquisitive look. 

Ron gave her a pointed look, “Moody’s here.” 

Hermione nodded, dragging her feet to the kitchen entrance where a large, dead pig was splayed out on the dining table. On one side, Mrs. Weasley pointed and shook her finger in Moody’s direction. 

“...  _ Just  _ finished getting the rest of that boys blood off this table and you come and muck it up all over again. This room will smell like pig for  _ weeks,  _ Alastor, and who do you think will be cooking this thing?”

Hermione stared at the freshly slaughtered swine on the table, whose skin had just begun to lose its rosey coloring. They had yet to notice her standing in the doorway.

Moody’s false eye twitched. “Better think of something fast then. You’ll want to eat this fast, keep it fresh. If not I’ll take it to the  _ other  _ houses that are scrambling for food. Your choice, Molly.” 

Mrs. Wealey huffed, mumbling some intelligible (but probably unfriendly) words under her breath. 

Without breaking eye contact with Moody, she yelled out, “Harry, Ronald, come bring this pig to the fire pit,” she gave Moody a mockingly warm smile. “We’ll be having a roast tonight.” 

Hermione began to shuffle backwards, keen on hiding herself until Molly had allocated the cooking roles to other people. 

“Not so fast, Granger.” 

Hermione huffed silently, Moody’s fake eye had probably spotted her immediately. 

“I have something I need to discuss with you.”

Hermione went to speak, but Harry and Ron were rushing past her and towards the pig, positioning themselves on either end and instructing each other on how they should get the best leverage. 

Ron’s hands slipped and the pig returned to the table with a loud  _ thump.  _ Hermione suppressed a giggle at Harry’s frustrated groan. 

“ _ Ron,  _ just grab it by its feet.” 

Once they finally had a good hold on it and began shuffling towards the side door which led out to the gardens, Hermione did giggle.    
“Why didn’t you just levitate it?” 

Both boys' eyes popped open and their jaws slackened as they stared at each other incredulously. “Why  _ didn’t  _ we levitate it?” 

Mrs. Weasley shooed the boys at the door, lest the pig end up on her clean floors, and turned a stern eye to the pair left in the kitchen. Hermione covered her mouth with her fist to hide her smile. 

“I expect  _ everyone  _ to help with tonight's dinner. Hermione, dear, that means you too. Please join us in the garden when you’re finished.”

With one last exasperated look towards Moody, she left the kitchen to follow the boys outside. 

“Is he awake?”

Hermione nodded and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “Just this morning, yes. However he  _ should _ be resting now.” 

Her emphasis on the  _ should  _ was more so a warning for Moody that she would not take kindly to him interrupting her patient's healing time. 

He ignored her, his fake eye rolling back and forth over her face. “And did you mention our intentions for them here?”

Hermione snorted. “I’m not stupid.” 

It wasn’t a direct answer to the question, but Moody nodded all the same. “Good, good. We’ll want as many hands on this as possible. I’ve already asked Kingsley and Bill to join us tonight for dinner. The more Order members surrounding them, the less likely they are to refuse.”

Hermione crossed her arms more tightly across her. “That’s… They’re not  _ animals.  _ You speak as if you’re cornering them.”

Moody’s eye rolled swiftly in its metal socket. “How do you think I got that pig there? It wasn’t by offering it tea and waiting for it to decide to die by itself.”

Hermione looked over at the all too familiar scene of blood soaking into the wood of the table. It made a shiver course down her spine, remembering the night the pair had been delivered here. Nott’s broken body, Malfoy’s gauged cheek. 

“And if they say no?” 

Moody cleared his throat noisily, “Let’s hope they don’t, how’s that? We’d like you to be there when we talk to them. You’ve already built up a rapport with the Malfoy boy,” Hermione snorted.  _ Rapport  _ was a gentle term for what it really was. “And you know more about Nott’s condition than anyone.”

Hermione nodded, licking between her lips nervously. Moody was already limping away, leaning on his walking stick as he moved. 

“If they do refuse,” Moody paused in his steps, but didn’t turn back to face her. “Will they be sent back to  _ them?” _

“That would just be cruel,” Mood paused for a moment, before beginning to walk again. “Might as well just kill them ourselves.”

Hermione was left in the kitchen, her eyes wide and her heart racing. What choice did they have, really? Join the Order’s fight, one that they probably didn’t align themselves with, and die as sacrifices by the opposing side. Or refuse and be killed by the other. 

She walked numbly out the door, joining the Weasley family as they scrambled to hook and clean the pig for roasting. Instead, she distractedly stared at the closed window on the top floor, where Malfoy and Nott were just behind. 

It could have been her imagination, but she thought maybe she saw a face staring back at her. 

* * *

Hermione clenched the two plates tightly in her hands. Moody and Kinglsey were positioned on either side of her, with Bill in front at the door. Harry, Ron, and Arthur stood further back in the hallway, the younger redhead folded against the wall and muttering unhappily to himself. 

Bill knocked once and waited for a response. When none came, he knocked again. 

Hermione almost lost her grip on the plates as Moody elbowed her suddenly and she cleared her throat, “Malfoy, open up. I have your dinners. No eggs this time, I promise.”

Muffled voices came through the door before it swung open, revealing Malfoy who, at the sight of the other unwelcome guests, sneered. 

“Oh fuck off.” 

He attempted to slam the door back closed, but Bill pushed his shoulders into the opening. 

“I didn’t invite you in,” Malfoy growled lowly as the rest of the group also pushed their way into the room. 

“Don’t need one, Malfoy,” Bill said simply, “This is our house.”

Hermione gave Malfoy a sheepish smile as she offered his plate to him. The roasted pork, stacked generously with boiled potatoes, would hopefully be enough of a peace offering. Instead, Malfoy gave the plate a scathing look, one he also directed at her, before ignoring the extended food and slumping into the recliner. 

Thoroughly chastised, though with only a look, Hermione dragged her feet to Nott’s bedside. 

“What is it?” He wrinkled his nose at the various cuts of meat. 

“Um, roasted pig. I believe the Spanish call it cochinillo asado.” 

“Oh… thank you, it looks…” Hermione could tell he was trying to be polite, he was grinning just a little  _ too  _ hard. “ _ Great.”  _

Hermione giggled quietly. Behind her, the men were arguing loudly with Malfoy about something or another, completely oblivious to the exchange at the bedside. 

“It’s actually not too bad,” Hermione shrugged. “Besides, I was running out of creative ways to cook eggs. Count yourself lucky.”

He lifted a forkful of meat to his lips and looked up at her through thick lashes. “Did you make it?”

“I…” she tucked a curl behind her ear bashfully, “I helped a bit.” 

He grinned. “Then I bet it’s delicious.”

Hermione blushed, turning her head away from the compliment as Nott popped the fork into his mouth and groaned. She tried to ignore the burning of her face at the sound as she attempted to focus on the conversation throughout the rest of the room. 

“... care to tell me  _ why  _ you’ve decided to bring the militia with you? Don’t think you can off us by yourself?”

Ron snorted. “Please. I’d need you and my bare hands, Malfoy. If we were planning on killing you, we wouldn’t even waste Hermione’s magic on your friend.”

Malfoy sneered. “Ah yes, I’m sure Granger’s magic is a hot commodity.” 

Ron lunged forward, one of Harry’s hands across his chest the only thing holding him from throttling the blonde. 

At the same time Hermione heard a voice behind her, “ _ Draco.” _

She turned just slightly, enough to peer over her shoulder. Nott’s face, which up to this point had been gentle and kind, was set in a hard sneer that could rival Malfoy’s. His eyes burned in their deep redness, effectively subduing Malfoy’s antics. The blonde turned his face away from both the group of men standing around the room and his friend’s piercing glare. 

“Alright, Nott?” 

In an instant, his face had transformed back into its kind, relaxed features as he turned his attention to Harry.

“Yes, thank you. I, uh, I don’t remember much. But I suppose a thank you is also in order for getting me here in one piece.”

Harry nodded. “If it wasn’t for you, none of us would have gotten back here safely.”

Nott gave a thin, bashful smile. 

Moody cut in, “Feel free to continue this circle of feelings later. But we have business here.”

“You mean you didn’t come to make sure we got our dinner?” Malfoy mumbled. 

“Keep it up, son,” Kingsley said, “See how far that smart mouth gets you here.”

Hermione shuffled awkwardly. There was far too much testosterone in one room. 

“On the matter of you staying here,” Arthur began. “You are welcome to this room, to our food, and to our protection.”

“Thank you.” Nott said at the same time that Malfoy laughed and hissed, “ _ But?” _

“ _ But,  _ you’ll do your part here. Scrub a toilet or two. But you’ll also be expected to cooperate with the Order. You’ll answer our questions, you’ll draw bloody maps if you have to.” Moody thumped his walking stick against the floor.

“You’re asking us to join the Order.” 

“We’re not  _ asking  _ you anything,” Bill jumped in. “We don’t expect you to support or even  _ believe  _ in our cause. But your choices are limited here.” 

Hermione could see a muscle in Malfoy’s jaw jump. “And if our choice is no?”

“I’d love for you to find out.” Ron grunted. 

_ “Ron.”  _ It was Hermione’s turn to scold her friend. “Enough. All of you. Do you seriously need an answer right now?” 

The room was silent, weary of the magic that frizzled from the ends of her fingertips and buzzed around her hair. 

“He can’t even  _ walk  _ yet,” Hermione gestured to the man in the bed. “And you’re expecting them to denounce their beliefs, turn their backs on their families, and agree to martyrdom in fifteen minutes?  _ Honestly.” _

She cleared her throat softly, a blush staining her cheek as the room seemed to grow too stuffy with so many pairs of eyes on her. Scanning the different faces: Bill and Arthur’s impassive looks, Moody’s disgruntled sneer, Ron’s bewildered expression. Her eyes then fell on Malfoy. 

He seemed to be looking right through her. His face slack, but his eyes penetrating through every layer of skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

It was a look she knew well, from Hogwarts. One he gave the most complex of problems. Probing and searching and peeling back every layer until it was solved. Hermione licked between her lips nervously and watched as his eyes narrowed at the action. 

“A week,” Kingsley decided, breaking the silence. “We’ll give you a week to decide. Until then,” Kingsley extended his palm. “Your wand, Malfoy. Now that your friend is awake, you’re a flight risk.”

Hermione braced herself for an inevitable blowout. Instead, Malfoy was silent. When she looked back at him, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Her breath caught. 

“It’s in the dresser,” Nott said quietly. “Top left.” 

Kingsley retrieved the wand and tucked it into his robes. 

“A week,” he reiterated. 

The remainder of the group took their leave, Hermione purposefully trailing last. When Harry had exited, she shut the door gently and turned back to the pair, her back against the door.

Both looked at her cautiously. Now without a wand between them, they were defenseless even to her. She tried to give an encouraging smile.

“I… You know they won’t let you leave here. Not when you know where Harry is.”

They stayed quiet, she felt like melting under the scorch of their combined, analytical stares. 

She licked her lips. “With that said, if you decide to not align yourself with the Order: I implore you to leave. George is the last to go to bed around 1:30. The third step on the staircase squeaks and Molly is a light sleeper. There’s a town not five miles from here, a muggle one, but…” with trembling hands, she rummaged through her coat pocket and pulled out a tiny sack with metal coins. “This should be enough for a room at the inn, at least for a night. It’s all I can do.” 

She placed the bundle on the dresser gently. Technically, it wasn’t  _ all  _ she could do. There were other safehouses, empty ones, that she could send them. Luna would even welcome them quietly if Hermione vouched. But it was their choice to make and their burden to bear, this was at least enough to not weigh on her conscience. 

She cleared her throat and raised her chin, “I don’t expect either of you to understand. I know how you feel about me, about my blood and my magic. But I’m a witch, a  _ good  _ one. And this… this  _ war  _ is about my right to be here. I  _ deserve  _ to be here. And if you can’t even…” she licked her lips once more. “If you can’t understand  _ that _ , then I don’t want you here. Of your own free will or not.” 

She scurried from the room, not bothering to give them a chance to speak. 

That night she endured a fitful sleep, one that left the sheets bunched around her legs and a thin layer of sweat across her body. Haunted by eyes, red and gold like honey and piercing grey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all the comments, kudos, and love so far.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione liked to think she had become proficient at cooking eggs. The Weasley chickens were the only consistent source of food they had now that bounties were put out for the Order. She knew that the only think that could drive someone crazy, besides the overwhelming fear that came with war, was repetition. 

So, she learned. 

“How do you want your eggs?”

She could do it all. Scrambled, poached, omelets, boiled, baked, shirred. She even saved the grease from the few times they were blessed with a cut of pork to fry them in. It was something to focus on; the perfectly cooked egg. The right amount of salt, the flawless crisp of the round edges. It was a distraction. 

And over the last three days, she did nothing but fry eggs. Each morning she’d wake up, eyes heavy and mind groggy, and patter softly down the hallway. Each morning she expected their door to be open, the bed to be made, and them to be gone. Each morning the door stayed shut, the only inkling that they were still inside were the flickering of lights and soft voices that sometimes could be heard from the hallway. 

Each morning Hermione distracted herself by making eggs, plating them, and setting them outside the door. Hoping that it would open. Hoping that it wouldn’t. 

This morning in particular, Hermione knew she had overslept. She had just been getting through the last few chapters of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,_ bequeathed to her by Albus Dumbledore after his death. She didn’t particularly care for it. She had long outgrown fairytales. But she owed it to him, if anything, to at least finish it. 

The sky was already a bright blue, the sun at least a quarter of the way up from the horizon. Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes of sleep, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. While she was usually the first awake, all the other doors were already open and their inhabitants gone. Hermione sighed and then did a double take, her drowsiness replaced by a jolt and a knot in her throat. Their door was open. 

She clutched the door frame and peeked inside. Everything seemed in place, even the bed was perfectly made and pressed. Did they go to the village? Were they there now? Perhaps she should have given them more… something. A wand. Something to protect themselves, if they were enemies for both sides now. 

Voices carried up the stairs and Hermione followed them into the kitchen to find Ron and Harry picking at their plates of bare, still wet eggs.

“Sorry,” she sighed, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. “I overslept. I can make new eggs if you’d like.”

Ron nodded eagerly while Harry swallowed his forkful politely and gave a tight smile. “Is’alright. We don’t have much time anyway. Moody and Kingsley will be here soon.”  
Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat, thrumming nervously. “They never come on Saturdays.”

Ron grunted and shrugged. “Urgent when it comes to Slytherins I suppose.”

Hermione licked her lips. “Because… because they fled?”

“Fled?” Harry furrowed his brows, shaking his head. “They’re in the living room.”  
“Fled,” Ron reiterated with a snort. “As if anyone else would take them.”

Hermione ignored them, her mind racing as she slowly approached the entrance of the living area, expecting to see Malfoy and Nott hung by their thumbs after being caught trying to leave. 

“... yes you _are,”_ Nott cooed at the bundle of blankets in his arms that Hermione immediately recognized as Teddy. “Draco, do you want him?”   
The blonde grunted, his arms folded loosely over his chest as he shot a disgusted look to Nott, neither had spotted her yet. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“It’s a fucking baby, I don’t know. Hold him, talk to him. You were a baby once, what did you like to do?” 

Malfoy shrugged, “I imagine I liked to suck on tits.”

“Hmm,” Nott hummed as if considering the options. “Some things never change, I suppose.”

And then Malfoy grinned. Something that made Hermione’s breath hitch in her throat. She had seen him in other states: anger mostly. But never pure, unabashed joy. She imagined him to be like a snake; never more than content and always ready to strike at the nearest hand.

“Have you come to say hello, Granger? Or just watch us?” 

Hermione jolted at the sudden use of her name. Malfoy had not even turned around and somehow knew she was hidden in the doorway. Perhaps he _was_ more like a snake than she thought. 

She swallowed. “You stayed.” 

Malfoy grunted, but Nott gave her a winning smile. “ _We_ decided it was the best option, for everyone involved.” 

Hermione noted the pointed _we_ , as if he was trying to convince her Malfoy had any hand in the decision to stay at the Burrow. In any case, his divulgence had also expressed that he knew without a doubt what their role would be here. 

“I--” Hermione began to say, but Tonks swept into the room, bumping into her shoulder as she passed. 

“Thank you for watching him,” she gushed, wiping a wet streak from her hands to her jeans. “I can barely get a thought in, let alone a bathroom break, with him.”

“S’no problem,” Nott handed the bundle over, his bottom lip pouting slightly at the baby’s departure from his arms. “He changed his nose into a snout. Scared the fuck out of me.”

Tonks wrinkled her nose at the language, but laughed. “He’ll do that. Takes after mummy, don’t you?” she cooed gently at her son, who babbled quietly and reached his hand up into a fist to grab for her hair. “Kingsley and Mad-Eye should be here in a moment. Are you staying, Hermione?”

“Well, I--”

“She is,” Moody answered for her, limping into the room on his cane with Kingsley, Arthur, Harry, and Ron trailing behind him. “At least for now.”

Hermione nodded and tucked herself next to Harry and Ron. 

“Think they’ll tell them about the Horcruxes?” Ron whispered into her ear, just loud enough for Harry to hear too. Hermione licked her lips, watching Nott’s fiery eyes trail on her and Ron’s proximity. 

“Not at first. Not until they’ve proven themselves.” Hermione answered back, keeping her gaze forward and meeting Nott’s eye. 

He raised his eyebrows just once, with a wink, and Hermione blushed, understanding what he was insinuating. She subconsciously leaned more towards Harry. 

“...doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t have a taste, but we have pumpkin juice if you’d prefer it that way.”

“What?” Hermione whispered up to Harry.

“Veritaserum.” 

Hermione’s jaw slackened slightly as she watched Nott grasp and swirl the little vial before throwing his head back and dumping the contents down his throat. Hermione swallowed as his Adams apple bobbed and the cords in his neck flexed. 

Malfoy sneered at the offending liquid being offered to him. 

“Draco,” she heard Nott mutter, grabbing the vial and touching it softly to his friend’s lips. “You promised.” 

Malfoy begrudgingly opened his mouth, letting Nott pour the liquid into his mouth. His nose twitched as he swallowed. Hermione looked away. 

“Your full names.”

“Theodore Tiberius Nott.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

Kingsley rapid fired question after question. _Have you at any point been affiliated with You-Know-Who? Who is the Minister of Magic?_ Easy questions, until Moody stepped forward, his fake eye swiveling back and forth between the two boys. 

“Do you renounce your allegiance to the Dark Lord and his ideologies? Do you swear to use your knowledge and abilities to aid the Order? Even if it means your life?”

“Yes.” Nott whispered, his eyes blinking unseeingly. 

It was quiet then, Hermione expected Malfoy to blurt out a resounding _no,_ a spat at the ground of Moody for even suggesting such a thing. But when she looked up, he was staring right at her. 

“Yes.” 

* * *

Kingsley requested Harry, Ron, and Hermione leave soon after so that they may get the two caught up on what the Order was working on and their role in it all. Hermione’s fingernails were bitten down to nubs by the time they had finally come out. 

Malfoy had an angry, almost animalistic snarl on his face while Nott looked more than a little exhausted from the long questioning. 

“Do you have any questions before we leave?” Kingsley asked, Moody already halfway out the door. 

“Do you have my wand?” 

Kingsley reached into his breast pocket and retrieved an almost brand new looking wand and tossed it into Malfoy’s hands, who blinked at him.

“Your wand’s no use if it’s splintered like that. You’ll end up Avada-ing yourself. I had Ollivander take a look at it. We’ll have one soon for you too, Nott. But good wands are few and far between these days.”

Malfoy grunted instead of a thank you, even after Nott elbowed him gently in the ribs. 

“Hermione,” Kingsley addressed her and she perked up. “We’ll be going into town soon for supplies. Please make a list of what you need for your healing kit and we’ll do our best.”

Hermione nodded eagerly. It had been months since she had been able to fully restock her essential potions and creams. “Thank you, I’ll give it to Arthur in the morning if that’s alright.”

Kinglsey nodded and bid his farewell which left Harry, Ron, Hermione, Malfoy, and Nott staring silently at each other.

“That went well, I think,” Harry broke the silence, pushing it glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “All things considered.”

Hermione felt an arm sling around her shoulder as Ron tucked her into his side. “Yeah, just remember this is _our_ house. How does it feel to slum it with the Weasley’s, Malfoy?” 

The bottom of Malfoy’s nose twitched as if he were forming a scathing reply, but instead turned on his heel and stalked up the stairs with Nott hot on his trail.

When they were out of sight, Hermione shimmied until Ron’s arm dropped from around her.

“Honestly, Ronald.” She shook her head, her face conveying her disappointment. “Have to kick dogs when they’re down?”

Ron shrugged, not at all put out by her reprimanding. “Not like Malfoy had any trouble rubbing shite in our faces when we were down bad. Just because _you_ forgive them doesn’t mean _I_ have to.”

“I haven’t… _forgiven_ them,” Hermione sputtered. “Least of all _Malfoy._ You forget I was on the receiving end of many jokes and hexes from him. I simply— I don’t know— _empathize_ with their situation. At least we had each other. _Support._ They’re alone—“

“Snakes travel alone. _And_ eat their young.” 

Hermione huffed in annoyance. 

“Should have never let him borrow that book on reptiles,” Harry said pointedly.

She marched to the end of the stairs and threw them a scathing look. “I didn’t think he’d actually _read_ it—“

“ _Hey—“_

 _“_ ... insufferable, _both of you.”_

She stomped up each stair, grumbling under her breath about _forgiveness_ and _Ronald fucking Weasley._

“ _Oof—“_ she stumbled slightly on the landing as she crashed into something, or some _one_ as two hands shot out to steady her. “Shi— _Malfoy_ don’t do that,” she ripped her arms from his grasp which he looked unbothered by. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He stared down at her unblinkingly, towering over her frame and having to lower his chin to meet her gaze. 

“They’re right, you know. You don’t have to defend us. You know we wouldn’t do the same for Weasley if the roles were reversed.”

Hermione lifted her own chin to match his. “Good thing the roles _aren’t_ reversed, then. It doesn’t matter what _you’d_ do. It matters what the _right_ thing to do is.”

He hummed. “Speaking of which.”

A heavy cloth bag was pressed gently against her stomach and she reflexively grabbed it. It was the satchel of money she had given them just a few days prior.

“It seems we won’t be needing this. Theo asked me to thank you anyhow.”

She grasped the bag tightly, the coins feeling even heavier now. “Sure. Of course.”

She expected Malfoy to depart then, return back to his room with Nott and brood as he does. Then again, she expected Malfoy to do a lot of things lately that he ended up doing the complete opposite of. Proof that she _didn't_ know Malfoy as well as she thought she did.

He stood silently, his broad frame blocking her way through the hall.

“I meant what I said.”

“What’s that?” 

“I’m very… protective of Theo,” his jaw clicked as he bit down. “Which has nothing to do with your magical capabilities or you being a Mudblood.”

Hermione blinked hard at his use of the word, not enough to be a grimace but still a bodily reaction to it.

“I would believe that more if you didn’t use _that_ word.”

His nose twitched. “Why not? It’s what you are.”

She felt fire in her blood, bubbling into her throat. The money heavy in her hands, the recognition that she had defended this _boy_ to her closest friends when he was still quite obviously like _this._

“But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing,” he continued. “Just as I’m a spoiled— what did you call me?— pompous ferret. It’s just who we are, you can’t fear what you are.”

“I don’t fear it. It’s...”

“You do. You do fear it. You fear that’s how people see you. You fear you’ll never be seen as an equal because of it.”

Hermione stayed silent, her jaw tight.

“That is what it is, isn’t it? It’s why you worked so hard at Hogwarts. It’s why you’re constantly trying to prove yourself. Because you’re a Mudblood.”

“Watch it, Malfoy—“

He stepped forward. If she were to meet his step backwards then she’d no doubt tumble down the stairs. She held firm, even when her heaving chest brushed against his. 

“You should wear it like a badge of honor. Mudblood Granger who proves all the Purebloods wrong,” his eyes gleamed with mischief and pleasure as he whispered, his breath hot against her face. “They’ll never forget what you are, so you shouldn’t either.”

He was gone then, hands in his pockets, sauntering down the hall to join Nott in their shared room. He offered her one last look over his shoulder. One that taunted her. One that said, _what will it be, Granger? Who are you?  
_

She clenched her fists at her side, returning her own steely look. _Not that,_ she wanted to answer, _more than that. How could I ever forget, if you keep reminding me?_

But he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys <3 I have no words. I'm so happy you're all enjoying this. I hope you liked this chapter (and Malfoy being Malfoy *shrug*)
> 
> I also made a trailer for this fic that you can find on my TikTok: dirtymudblood


	5. Chapter 5

“Move over,” a voice whispered from behind her.

She already knew he was coming. His footsteps were always heavy and obvious in a house with such thin walls and creaking floorboards. She grunted, pulling the blanket closer to allow an empty space. A silent invitation. 

“Thanks,” the voice whispered again and a large, warm presence was pressed up behind her. 

“What was it tonight?” she whispered back, her voice too crisp to be just woken up. A sign that she had also been having trouble sleeping. 

“Department of Mysteries. You?”

Hermione sighed, rolling over carefully to face him. Ron’s face looked almost sunken in, desperate for a night of peaceful sleep. 

“Cedric.”

Ron nodded. Their nightmares were on a rotation between the various tragedies they endured. 

“D’you have any dreamless sleep?” 

Hermione tucked her hand under her cheek and shook her head, her face pulling into a guilty smile. “No. I haven’t had the ingredients. But I think they’re going into town tomorrow. I’ll make sure to have some for tomorrow night though, I’ll start brewing as soon as they get back.”

Ron’s mouth pulled to one side. “I guess we’ll just have to stick it out for tonight. Do you mind if I stay?”

Hermione nodded, scooting her body closer to the wall to give his bigger frame more room. 

“If you kick me even once, I’m sending you straight back to your own room.”

He hummed, but the sound was sleepy and unhearing as he was lulled to the sleep by the presence of another person. Hermione gently tucked a stray hair behind his ear. He had refused to let his mother cut it in the months that they had been stuck at the Burrow and it was starting to curl at the ends. 

She wondered about Malfoy and Nott just a few doors down. If they were awake right now, plagued with dreams of their own. If they found comfort in each other as Ron found comfort next to her. 

She didn’t mind him coming to her bed, it only happened every so often. His warmth was welcome as well as the distraction of his presence. Hermione counted the freckles across his nose and snorted softly. If Molly knew they were sharing a bed, she’d be overjoyed. It was no secret she hoped for the pair to find their way to each other.    
But Ron Lavender. Sweet, patient Lavender who had been moved to a safehouse in Dublin, using her quote-unquote talents in divination to aid the Order as she could. And Hermione had no interest. 

Ron’s lips parted on a soft snore and Hermione let her heavy eyes close, pushing away the gorey memory of Cedric’s body and replacing it with comforting things. 

_ Blood. So much blood-- no, a warm bed. A worn duvet that smells of apple pie filling.  _

_ Mr. Diggory’s cries--  _ Hermione’s eyes squeezed closed tighter, pressing herself more against the wall.  _ Someone behind me. Someone holding me. A strong, musky scent like the edge of a forest.  _

She felt her shoulders relax, letting the fantasy of the imaginary figure wrap his arms over her toros, grounding her to the bed. Ron’s breath puffed against her cheek and she leaned into it, the dizziness of sleep settling in. 

Someone in front of her. The smell of mint and clean linen. Two bodies pressing her in the middle, shielding her from all sides. Protecting her until she could finally rest. 

* * *

Someone was shaking her. 

“Mmph’off.” she tried to grumble, shaking the hands away, but they were persistent. 

“I have to go before everyone wakes up and you have my shirt.” Ron’s sleepy voice whispered back. 

Hermione blinked her eyes open, looking at where she had Ron’s shirt front in a deathgrip. “Oh. Sorry. Wha’time is it?”

“Nearly five if you want to get up.” 

Hermione nodded, rubbing her face and extracting herself from the comfort of her bed. 

“Sleep okay?” 

“Better,” he shrugged. “I miss Lavender on nights like last night. I mean, I miss her every night. But she smells like cinnamon. It reminds me of my mums baking. And you-- I don’t know-- smell citrusy or something. It’s not the same.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. She followed him to the door where he slipped out quietly. 

“Thanks again for letting me stay,” he whispered, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Hermione nodded, watching him tiptoe down to hall to his room. 

Peeking her head out and swiveling both ways she jolted when she spotted a pair of eyes looking back at her. 

Nott, barefoot and bleary eyed, in borrowed pajamas that were much too tight around his thighs, exiting the bathroom. They blinked at each other, he blinked down the hall at where Ron had disappeared. She opened her mouth to speak, but what was there to say?

_ It’s not what it looks like-- we would never-- I’m not--  _

But he gave her a gentle, lazy smile and finger to his lips as if to silence her. Or perhaps to say  _ your secret’s safe with me.  _ Hermione returned her own thin lipped smile and watched as he entered his room. 

* * *

“No more eggs,” Lupin sighed, closing the refrigerator door. “There’s too many mouths to feed in this damned house.”

“You’re more than free to leave, Remus,” Molly tutted. “I hear the safehouse in North Wales could use a pair of hands or two.”

Lupin ignored her, swiping his son from his wife’s arms. “You don’t have to worry about this, do you? No, no. Your food walks around with you.”

“I can go get some more,” Hermione offered as Harry and Ron snorted. “The chickens aren’t producing as much now that it’s winter. I think they might be too cold, I was planning on adding some warming spells and such to their coops.”

Lupin grunted in agreement. “I’ll try to pick up something while we’re out today. A nice cut of meat for dinner sounds good, yes?”

Molly wagged her finger. “It better be done bleeding by the time it gets back here or so help me--”

“Will you help me with the chickens?” Hermione asked Harry and Ron as Molly continued her tirade. 

The pair looked sheepishly towards each other and then down to their small ration of eggs. “Um--”

“I’ll go with you!” A cheery voice came from the other side of the table. 

Nott and Malfoy had joined them for breakfast, albeit a bit late, and had begun to eat in silence as the kitchen bustled with a busy morning.

The three Gryffindors blinked at him, even Malfoy was giving his friend an apprehensive look. 

“I’m-- yes,” Hermione began unsurely. “That’s very kind of you to offer. Thank you. After breakfast?”

He nodded eagerly before finishing his plate in two forkfuls and sending them to the sink before pulling on one of Charlie’s old coats Mrs. Wealsey had let them borrow. 

“Meet you outside then.”

Malfoy was shaking his head, grumbling and stabbing at his pitiful scraps of food. 

Hermione nodded and turned to Arthur. “You have my list?”

He patted his breast pocket. “Got it.”

“And you’ll remember--”

“Black clove instead of white clove, but red sweetgrass if they have neither. I’ll remember.”

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile. “And just--”

“We’ll be careful, promises.”

It was nice to have Arthur. Over the last few years she saw less and less of her own father as she submerged herself deeper into the Wizarding world. Her parents, not by any fault of their own, didn’t understand her need to be surrounded by magic so much. Arthur wasn’t her father by any means, but it was close. 

Hermione bid the older men a farewell as she exited the house and found Nott waiting for her, leaning against the tower of chopped wood. 

Physically, he was the complete opposite of Malfoy. His eyes were warm where Malfoy’s were piercing. The brassy tone to his skin to Malfoy’s translucent pale. Where Malfoy was tall and lean, Nott was stocky; the borrowed pants bunching around his ankles and his broad shoulder nearly ripping the flannel he was wearing at the shoulder seams. 

“Ready then?” Hermione rubbed her mitten covered hands together. 

Nott gestured for her to lead the way and they began walking silently. 

“So, you and Weasley?”

Hermione started and looked around wildly for any who might overhear. Molly would be planning the wedding, Lavender would murder her. 

“ _ Shh-  _ and  _ no.  _ He’s my friend, that’s all, _ ”  _ she hissed back defensively. 

“Hmm. I must have misinterpreted his departure from your bedroom this morning then,” his mouth twisted into a playful smirk. “Besides, who says friends can’t make friends come?”

A knot in Hermione’s belly tightened, clenching. She knew sex, she understood it and all its mechanics. But no one had ever--

“I’m  _ not--  _ I mean I’ve  _ never--”  _ Hermione blushed suddenly aware of what she was about to confess. But the gleam in his eye told her he already knew. 

“You don’t need to defend yourself with me,” He raised his hands in defense. “No judgements from me either way. I was just curious.”

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was completely mortified. Her face would probably be stuck red for a week. 

“Hey,” when Hermione met Nott’s eyes, they were concerned, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything, I’m only teasing. Don’t take anything I say to heart, I’m just a dumb prat. Eh?” 

He nudged her elbow with his gently and Hermione found a small smile at his antics. 

“There she is,” he nudged her again, his grin breaking her smile. “Anyway, I won’t tell anyone I saw if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Thank you. If anyone found out they would just take it  _ completely  _ out of context and— and seriously was  _ not  _ what it looked like,” she started to ramble. “You see Ron has a girlfriend, Lavender— you know her, our year? Blonde?— anyway she’s been stationed in Dublin and Ron has trouble sleeping sometimes and—“

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, “I understand. Sometimes it’s comforting to have a warm, live body next to you.” 

“Anything for a good night's sleep these days.”

“And what about you, Granger?” He asked as the chicken pen came into view. “What helps you sleep these days?”

Hermione blinked, remembering the fantasy she had thrown herself in the night before. 

“I don’t, usually.”

She walked away, leaving him to catch up as she approached the coops and began opening their latches. 

“We’ll put out some feed and collect the eggs as they eat,” Hermione explained when Nott caught up to her and she began to sprinkle food over the ground, the chickens clucking happily. “Do you—  _ stop!” _

He had already reached his hand down towards one of the chickens, which reared back and pecked his finger violently.

“ _ Shit—“  _ he hissed, recoiling his hand to his chest. “Bloody  _ chicken—“  _

His finger was bleeding, thick red beads that rushed down his hand. Hermione gasped, moving forward to inspect the wound, but he had already popped the finger into his mouth.

Hermione watched, transfixed while he hallowed out his cheeks, sucking the puncture wound while a drop of blood clung to his lips. 

“Didn’t know they were just violent beasts. They look so cute.”

Hermione shook her head to relieve herself from her thoughts. “Are you okay? Is it deep?”

He shook his head, inspecting his finger. “No, just hurt like a bitch.”

Hermione laughed, getting down to her knees and crawling into the opening of the bottom coop. She began to collect eggs.

“Hey, er, Nott? Can you pass me that basket?” She waved her hand to the sack that was perched near his feet. He handed it to her.

“You can call me Theo, you know. Everyone does, or well,  _ did.  _ Before.” 

Right.  _ Before.  _ When he was with his friends, his family. Those who were close enough to know him as Theo. Here, far from home, he was Nott. 

Hermione bit her lip, stacking the eggs carefully into the basket. “Then… Theo, can I ask you something?”

He hummed his agreement.

“Why did you… I mean, that night. Why didn’t you stop Harry when you saw him? Why did you help?”

From the corner of her eye she saw him shuffle slightly. “Don’t know, honestly. I had always imagined if I had the chance to capture  _ the  _ Harry Potter, I’d do it. If not just to end the war, you know? But… I just  _ saw  _ him. And I saw my future. Everyone’s future if  _ he  _ won. Does that sound crazy? It was like in that moment, I cared more about the right way than the easy way.”

Hermione blinked at him, assessing him carefully. “But… you could have died, I mean.”

“I knew I’d be okay,” he insisted fiercely. “I knew Draco would come. He always does.”

“You have a lot of faith in him.”

“All of my faith is in him. He’s a good guy,” Hermione snorted. 

“He’s like an egg, sort of,” Theo plucked one out of the basket and held it up pointedly. “See all this hard stuff on the outside? All it’s there for is to protect--” his fingers wrapped around the egg and squeezed, the shell cracking and oozing yolk down his fist.“--all the soft stuff in the middle.”

Hermione couldn’t imagine Malfoy with any semblance of softness. This was  _ Malfoy.  _ Malfoy who, just yesterday, had accosted her in the hallway. Taunting her, spilling filthy, hateful language at her. 

But the way he said it,  _ Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood.  _ Was something of a self-deprecating confession, wasn’t it? I’ve been taught for years that I would be better, be stronger, be more powerful. And I’m  _ not.  _ I admire you for it. I hate you for it. 

No, there was no softness in Malfoy. Nothing being protected by his hard exterior, she decided. He was a snake, running on the need to hunt and survive. 

Hermione hummed. “Alright. And what about you? What are you like?”

He shook his hand of the egg remnants and wiped the rest on his pants front. 

“A peach, maybe,” He said after a moment of thought. “The completely opposite. It’s soft on the outside, sweet. And then you get to something hard and bitter in the middle.”

“I can’t imagine you at all like that,” Hermione wrinkled her nose, sorting through the hay for most eggs. “I just mean you’re so  _ nice.  _ You— are you  _ sure  _ the sorting hat put you in Slytherin?”

Theo laughed, a low barking sound. “Draco and I are two opposite sides of the same Slytherin coin. He’s all action and I’m all talk. But it's both with the same goal, to get what we want.” 

An unwelcome image of Malfoy in front of her, his hands on her knees as he pushed them apart. His long fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, forcing them to open.  Theo behind her, whispering in her ear. Coaxing her to open for him. Purring promises and praises. 

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, standing up and lugging the basket of eggs from the ground. 

“Ready?”

“Let me carry that for you.”

He reached down, his hand encasing hers around the basket handle; warm and calloused, like an experienced instrumentalist. She shivered involuntarily, something easily covered by excusing it as a reaction to the cold. But there was something about the way he didn’t remove his hand immediately that made Hermione think he might have felt it too. 

“I think if you were a food,” he began suddenly, his arms swinging as he walked. “You’d be an elderberry.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione scoffed, the front of her foot snagging on a rock and almost falling. 

“When I was a child, my mum used to make me medicine with them. They used to grow in our garden, it’s my only memory of her. Picking berries, boiling them into syrup for me. They were delicious. Not overtly sweet, a little tart. And they could fix anything wrong with you,” he sighed, “the summer after she died I was so sick. Dragon pox. I thought I was going to die and I knew where they were. I was only seven or so, and I went out to the gardens and just took a whole handful.”

The thing with them is, their seeds contain some sort of toxin and, fuck, if I thought I was sick  _ before,”  _ he laughed and shook his head, “but I learned to never underestimate how deadly such a beautiful, sweet thing could be. But how it could also be the thing that saves you. I dunno.” 

Hermione licked her lips, something in her chest fluttering down to her belly. Was he flirting with her? Was this what flirting was? Hyperboles of fruit and recollections of memories about his dead mother? 

“Thank you,” she said, which made her grimace at the formality of it. “Though those berries are only deadly if you eat them.”

Her eyes widened, absolutely mortified. She ducked her head and snuck a peek at Theo’s face, his mouth pitched together and his bottom lip tucked into his mouth like he was holding in a laugh.

“Yes,” he said, his voice doing nothing to mask his mirth. “I suppose that’s the difference.” 

They were blessedly back to the house and Hermione wanted nothing more than to run from this entire encounter, bury her face in a book or perhaps a pillow to suffocate. 

Before she could reach for the doorknob, she felt a hand encase her elbow gently. 

“Hermione,” she was a few steps above him and he looked at her through thick lashes, with those eyes that looked more gold in the sun than red. “You should think about what I said about Draco. Egg and all. You saw how easy I cracked through one back there. Draco he’s… he’s not so different.”

She nodded dazedly, too lost in the swirls and flecks in his eyes to latch onto anything he was saying. “Yes, okay. Eggs. Sure.”

He grinned, something dimbled that made the corner of his eyes crinkle and Hermione sucked in a breath. He reached around her, turning the door handle and pushed it open. 

“Thanks for letting me tag along.”

He brushed past her, for a millisecond their chests brushed together and she was almost dizzy surrounded by his earthy scent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the use of the word Mudblood is touchy for a lot of people and I totally understand that, but it's a very important theme here and you'll be able to see why later, I promise. I hope you're all still enjoying it <3 and... Theo *puppy eyes*


	6. Chapter 6

They didn’t return that night. Dinner was a silent affair, only the sounds of scraping forks and Teddy’s wails, as if he knew something was amiss. That night no one slept much. Even after passing Teddy back and forth between them, trying different coos and rocking patterns until finally Tonks dipped her pinky into the remnants of a dreamless sleep vial and rubbed it on his gums, and his cries turned into sleepy grunts and babbles; they remained awake. 

Even Theo and Malfoy’s light under the door stayed alight. Hermione wondered if they were as concerned as the rest were, albeit for other reasons surely. 

To Harry’s optimism and Ron’s pessimism, Hermione was grounded in realism. Harry believed they would return safely by morning, Ron expected them to not return at all, Hermione wondered who would return, if any. She had learned long ago that war was more like a chess game; it wasn’t the quantity of pieces you took, but the quality. You could take every pawn, every rook, every knight, but you needed the king. And if Harry was the king and they were the pieces surrounding to protect him, there was bound to be casualties. 

It didn’t make the fact any easier. They had already lost many they loved, too many to name and too many to cry over each time. Hermione had already resigned herself to the fact that she, one day, might be a taken piece as well. 

And if it meant protecting Harry, protecting the future and integrity of the world, she hoped the chessmaster would sacrifice her. 

She sipped her coffee lightly, wincing at the bitter taste. She missed cream. Sugar. Honey. But these days, caffeine was less about enjoyment than survival. 

“It’s okay mum,” she heard Fred whisper in hushed tones to Molly. 

“They’ve probably found an entire shop of meat,” George added, “and don’t want to share with us. They’ll be back when they’ve had their full, won’t they Fred?”

“Most definitely.”

Molly smiled thinly, taking two fingers to each twin’s cheek. “You’re right, of course you’re right.”

Ron grunted from his seat in front of her, his eyes focused on a newspaper from a week ago; the last time any of them had been able to get a copy. He had already read it front to back a dozen times, latching onto little snippets of good news that he could find. 

Harry made a choking sound next to her and when she looked over he had her mug in his hand and an offended, pursed face. “Hermione, this is awful.”

“Well now you can keep it, seeing as it has your germs now. Besides--”

Heavy footsteps came bounding down the stairs and Hermione stopped short when she spotted Theo, this under eyes dark from lack of sleep and his messy curls pulled back into a knot with a few strands falling across his forehead. 

Malfoy followed steadily behind him, his blonde hair wet from a recent shower and water dripping from the strands onto his cheek where they trailed across the prominent scar. Hermione licked her bottom lip subconsciously as a bead of water trickled over the sharp edge of his jaw--

_ “Ow--” _

Hermione started. Ron had kicked her leg under the table, calling her attention back to them. He gave her a look as if to say,  _ what?  _ and continued reading his paper. 

“Besides what?” Harry asked. 

“Nothing,” she sighed, “Just… drink the coffee.”

Harry gave her an odd look, but took another hesitant sip. 

“You boys will be out in the gardens,” Hermione heard Molly direct them, listing the various labor work that they’d be doing for the day. 

Theo nodded enthusiastically and looked as if he was taking mental notes of all the tasks, while Malfoy leaned against a pillar lazily, his eyes hooded and his arms crossed. She wondered how they came to be friends, being as different as they were. 

She couldn’t imagine what they’d have in common beyond loyalties. She watched them leave out the side door to the gardens, Malfoy ducking his head in the doorway and shutting it loudly behind him. What could they possibly talk about for the hours they spent alone in their room? 

“Any word, Molly?” While Tonks’ hair was usually a vibrant pink, wild and free, today it was her natural limp, brown locks. 

Hermione felt her heart squeeze. How terrible it must be to love someone at a time like this. 

“Not a thing, I’m afraid. I’d like to give it a few more hours before I send out the Billies.”

The Billies. An elite force of witches and wizards headed by Aberforth Dumbledore that specializes in the search and rescue of captured Order members. 

Named for the term of a mature male goat, which may or may not have had anything to do with Aberforth’s penchant for them. But that was only a rumor. 

“Okay,” Tonks sighed, pulling Teddy tighter to her chest. “Well, if anything--”

The front door slammed open, rumbling the walls and sending a knick knack tumbling to the floor where it shattered. Everyone lept to their feet, wands drawn. Tonks pressed Teddy’s face to her chest, both to shield him and to stifle his wails. 

Hermione’s mind was racing. They had been found. It was almost no use to fight. Even if they were able to take down whoever had come, the Burrow was compromised. They’d have to leave, they should go now. She’d have to get Theo. Malfoy. Get them out too.

“Oh, Arthur!” 

Hermione’s shoulders sagged, her knees buckling as she fell back into her chair. Molly raced forward to take her husband from where he was hanging across Lupin’s shoulders. 

Teddy’s cries rang across the room and Tonk’s pulled him back, rushing to meet Lupin at the door and pulling him to her, burying her face into his chest. How awful it must be to love someone at a time like this. How wonderful it must be to have someone who greets you when you return. 

“What happened?” Harry’s voice was panicked and shaken. “Where’s Kingsley? Professor Moody?” 

Molly sobbed, wiping a bit of dried blood from Arthur’s temple. “Why didn’t you send a  _ patronus?”  _

“Did you get any food?” 

_ “Fred.” _

“What? We’re starving here!”

_ “George.” _

Arthur held up his hand to silence the house. “One of the safehouses have been compromised--”

“Which one?” Hermione tucked her lips between teeth, not meaning for her outburst to be so sudden. 

“Inkwell,” Hermione heard Ron take in a sudden breath. Lavender. “It was all… sudden. Dean sent a patronus to Kingsley that someone was trying to break through the wards. We arrived just before they were breached.” 

“And--” Ron swallowed loudly. “And did everyone make it out okay?”

Arthur looked down at his hands. Lupin looked anywhere else. 

“Everyone made it out okay  _ right?” _

Lupin coughed. “We… Most. Most of them.” 

“Who?” Ron’s voice was small, nearly a whisper. 

No one answered. 

_ “Who?”  _ he surged forward, grabbing the front of Lupin’s shirt in his fists. “Who didn’t make it out?  _ Who?” _

“Ron,” Harry rushed forward, gripping his friend's shoulders and trying to pry him off. 

“Luna.” Lupin said finally. “They took Luna.”

Hermione swallowed over a lump in her throat. Luna. Ron’s hands loosened on Lupin’s shirt. She knew that even if he was sad for his friend, the relief he must have felt not having heard Lavender’s name trumped all. 

“Who?”

They all turned. Malfoy stood in the doorway. His shirt dirty from the yardwork, his wet hair now dry and tousled. His fists clenched and flexing at his side. 

“We can’t know,” Arthur said sheepishly, “the masks…”

“Don’t coddle him, dad,” Ron let go of Lupin’s shirt and rounded on Malfoy. “It’s all his  _ friends,  _ after all. Probably his fucking daddy come to find him and bring him home to mummy.” 

“Fuck you, Weasley.” 

“What’s wrong, Malfoy? Can’t stand it? Can’t stand to hear about what they  _ do?  _ What they’ve  _ done?” _

Malfoy’s fists clenched tighter.  _ “Shut--” _

“Now that you can’t escape it, right? Now that you can’t hide under mummy’s skirt and ignore real life?”

“Ron,” Hermione whispered, her eyes flickering back and forth between Ron’s reddening face and Malfoy’s deepening sneer. 

Theo stood behind, still in the open doorway. More pieces of hair untucked from his bun, his brows furrowed and his eyes glassy and concerned. He didn’t know what to do either. 

“Why don’t you tell everyone what they’re doing to Luna, Malfoy? I’m sure you know. They take them all to the Manor, don’t they? Did you always hear them screaming? Did it help you sleep?”

Malfoy had a tell. Hermione had known since their first dueling lesson their second year. His index finger always twitched near his pocket before grabbing his wand. She knew if Malfoy threw a hex, he’d be gone. 

So she did the only thing she could think of. She jumped out of her chair, threw herself in front of him, and grabbed his wrist tightly.

His sneer broke into a bewildered glare, tucking his chin down to see what was stopping him from going for his wand. She knew no one but Malfoy and Theo could see her from where they were, even as Ron loudly ordered for Hermione to step away. 

_ Please,  _ she hoped the look she was giving him said,  _ it’s not worth it. Please.  _

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes and Hermione swallowed, feeling his stare burn into her. He ripped his wrist from her hold and brushed past her, his shoulder knocking into hers and causing her to stumble slightly. For a moment, she was worried he was charging at Ron, but instead he veered the opposite way, stomping up the stairs two at a time. The sound of his bedroom door slamming caused Hermione to wince. 

“I’ll just…” Theo began awkwardly, coughing into his fist. “I’ll go talk to him.”

He passed Hermione, pausing for a moment to lean down and whisper,  _ “thanks”,  _ into her ear before following his friend up the stairs. His breath across her ear and neck caused her to shiver slightly, her stomach rolling and tightening. 

“Little harsh there, Ronnie.” Fred whistled. 

“Yeah, we’d hate to be on your bad side.” 

Ron grumbled, falling into the seat next to his parents.

Hermione rubbed her throbbing temples, turning to Lupin. “Did you manage to get anything from my list?”

He tossed a small satchel onto the table. “Only what we could grab. White clove, right?”

Hermione gave him a thin smile. No. But who was she to complain right now. 

She grabbed the bag. “I’ll be in my room brewing for the rest of the night then.”

She passed Theo and Malfoy’s room on the way to hers. She could hear their voices, loud but muffled, through the door. They quieted when her footsteps fell silent outside their door. She raised her fist to knock, but reconsidered. What was there to say? She sighed, lowering her hand and making her way to her room, confining herself there for the night.

* * *

She didn’t know what time it was, but it must have been late. She hadn’t heard a single sound outside of her bubbling cauldron and the knife against her ingredients for hours. 

She was exhausted. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, willing them to stop being so heavy when this potion still had to long to brew. 

A knock came at her door and she pulled her hands away, blinking away the colored spots in her vision. 

“You still awake?” Harry whispered through a crack in her door. “It’s me and Ron.”

She sighed. “Come in.”

They opened the door gently and slipped through, joining her on the floor around her cauldron with their legs crossed. 

“What time is it?”

“After midnight. You’ve been up here for hours,” Ron pulled a baggie of hardboiled eggs from his pocket. “I grabbed these for you.”

“No salt?” she took the bag and opened it, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell. 

Ron shrugged. “I’ll take them if you don’t want them.”

Hermione's stomach rumbled loudly and she listened to her body’s call for food, biting into the egg appreciatively. If she didn’t breathe in, it really wasn’t all that bad. 

“Lupin and Tonks are leaving,” Harry tucked his knees to his chest. “They’re setting up a new safehouse in Edinburgh and Moody wants them to run it. That’s where they’ve been all day.” 

Hermione nodded, swallowing her bite. “Who will go there?”

“Everyone from Inkwell I suppose. Lavender, Dean, Seamus. A few others I don’t remember,” Harry shrugged. “We also heard from the Billies. There hasn’t been a spotting of Luna since she was taken.”

“Is that… good?” Ron whispered.

“It’s not  _ bad,”  _ Hermione answered for him. “They’d know if she was taken directly to Malfoy Manor and…”

She trailed off. No one had ever been rescued from the Manor. That’s who they got into this whole mess with Malfoy and Theo in the first place. The Manor was too tightly guarded, too impenetrable to perform a rescue. If Luna was taken there, there wasn’t a guarantee that they’d see her again.

“Right. So what now?” 

“I…” Harry trailed off, looking into the simmering cauldron. “I don’t want anyone else to die. For me. The longer I stay here, the longer I hide, the stronger  _ he  _ gets.”

“Harry--”   
“I need to finish what Dumbledore started. I need… I  _ have to  _ destroy the rest of the horcruxes.”

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question, though Ron sounded perplexed. “Well you can’t just  _ leave--” _

“It has to be me. I have to do this, alone. I-I’ll keep in touch where I can. I just needed you to know, before I left.” 

Hermione sucked on her cheek for a moment. “You’re right. You do need to finish what Dumbledore started--”

_ “Hermione--” _

“-- _ But  _ you’d be absolutely thick if you don’t think we’ll be coming along. You don’t really think you could find all those horcruxes by yourself, do you? You  _ need  _ us, Harry.”

“Right,” Ron jumped in. “What would you do without Hermione’s potions or her brain and my… well, my… um,  _ me.” _

Harry was silent for a moment, watching the contents of the cauldron bubble and burst. Hermione wondered if he was going to reject them, come out with his bags packed and tell them he was leaving right this moment, without them. 

“Okay,” he finally whispered. “I…  _ We  _ will need to leave soon, though.”

“How soon?”

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t…actually... thought that far yet. I was sort of thinking you two would stop me all together.”

They were all silent until Hermione snorted, her hand flying up to cover her mouth while fits of giggles peeled from her. Harry and Ron joined in with their own awkward chuckles before all three were kneeled over, gasping for air, and wiping away at their eyes.    
“You are,” Hermione said between gasps of breath, “the  _ worst.” _

Their laughs finally sobered and Harry stood, bidding them a goodnight and forcing them to promise not to tell anyone of their plans. Even after he left, Ron stayed crossed on the floor, biting his thumb nail. 

“You’re mad at me.”

Hermione sighed, stirring the cauldron. “I am.”

“You didn’t have to jump in front of him like that.”

“Of course I did,” she turned to him, “he was moments from hexing you and if he did, you  _ know  _ your mum wouldn’t let him stay. Where would he go? No other safehouse would take him.”

“Would that really be so bad?”

_ “Yes,”  _ she threw up her hands, “Yes! He’ll  _ die.  _ He has a target on his back from all sides.”

“That’s his own fault,” Ron shot back. “For everything he’s done.”   
“He also saved your arses from the Manor, didn’t he?” Ron stayed silent. “When he didn’t have to. Doesn’t that… I don’t know…  _ interest  _ you?”

“Interest me? What about that would interest me?”

“It’s just,” she turned to her cauldron again, “I always thought the world was made up of black and white. You either had good intentions or bad. But then… I don’t know… everything Malfoy has done lately… it’s made him so…  _ grey.” _

“You think he’s good?”

“I think he’s confused what  _ good  _ is.”

“And you think you can show him.”

“I--” 

Was that right? Was that the sudden obligation she felt towards Malfoy? Did she think she could show him what goodness was? 

She never answered, focusing her attention on her brew until Ron finally sighed and stood. She thought he would leave then, but he stared at her for a moment more. 

“He’s not a dog, Hermione. You can’t take him from the street, fix him, and call him your pet. He’s Malfoy. He’ll bite you the first chance he gets.” 

He left, shutting the door softly behind him. Hermione groaned, rubbing her eyes. Still another hour to go before the brew would be done. 

She stood. If she was going to wait, she might as well begin to read the other books left to her from Dumbledore’s office. She curled up against the windowsill, cracking the spine of an old book of spells, annotated in detail by the previous owner. 

After a few pages Hermione peered out the window and saw a strange, orange light flickered outside, near the side of the house and Hermione furrowed her brows and pressed herself up tighter against the window. The light flickered again, then went out. 

Curious, Hermione pulled a thick robe around her and slipped out of her room, creeping silently down the stairs to the side door to the garden. She opened it gently, poking her head out to try and see where the light was coming from. 

“Granger.”

Hermione took a quick intake of breath, startled by the noise in the dark. She blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

“Malfoy? Are you… Are you smoking?”

The light flickered again as he inhaled. “Suppose I am.”

She pulled the robe tighter around her and stepped outside, afraid that the open door and talking would alert someone to their presence. 

“Where did you even get that?”

“I swiped it from Profess- uh, Lupin,” he ashed it onto the grass.

“ _ Muggle  _ cigarettes?”

“They’re good for something, I guess. Can’t be useless to society if they make  _ this.  _ Would you like some? It tastes minty.”

He offered it out to her and she shook her head. He shrugged, turning away from her and continuing to smoke. She was at an impasse. She could leave him out here. He wasn’t doing anything  _ wrong,  _ if you didn’t account for the theft. But she felt like she should stay. 

“It’s called menthol.”

“What?”

“What you’re tasting,” she sat next to him on the steps, careful that none of her extremities grazed him. “It’s called menthol.”

Malfoy hummed. “It’s fucking  _ good.” _

“Yes, well, they’re also addictive,” Hermione wrinkled her nose, though she doubted he could see it in the dark. “And you should stop while you can.”

Malfoy barked a laugh, but surprised her by throwing it onto a step and crushing it with his foot.

“You just know everything don’t you, Granger?”

“Not…  _ everything.  _ Most things.”

He laughed again and she heard him suck on his bottom lip before letting it go. 

“Do you know about muggle genetics?”

Hermione blinked. “Not much. I didn’t get that far in my schooling, honestly. I know the basics.”

He nodded, she could see the form of his head bobbing up and down.    
“It’s like… what you get from your parents right? What from them makes you  _ you.” _

“Sure.”

“Do you think… Do you think being evil is genetic?” 

Hermione paused. She could hear him swallow, as though he didn’t  _ really  _ want to ask but the words had been ripped from him. 

“No,” she said carefully, quietly. “I don’t. Do you?”

“I don’t know, Granger. Sometimes. And I suppose since neither of us know fuck all about genetics, we’ll never know.”

Hermione licked her bottom lip. “I don't know much about genetics, no, but I know other things.”

Malfoy grunted. 

“There’s a Hindu epic called Mahabharata. I read it… Well, I read it a long time ago. But I remember the gist. There was this King, can’t remember his name, but he had 100 sons who he formed into his own army called the Kauravas. He called for the slaughter of the Pandavas and used his children to achieve it. I believe some of them knew it was wrong, but he was their father and the king. But he had another son, Yuyutsu. 101 sons. And he became an informant for the Pandavas. The only one of his brothers to fight for good.”

Malfoy snorted. “So out of over a hundred children, only one was good. Some odds.”

“No, out of a hundred, one  _ chose  _ to do what was good,” she stood, the cold biting at her bare feet and up the legs of her pajama bottoms. “Being evil is a choice you make, not one another person makes for you.”

She turned to leave.

“Who won?”

“What?”

“Who won?” he repeated impatiently, not looking at her. “Between the… Karvas and the Pandas.” 

Hermione bit her cheek. “The Pandavas. All 100 sons died.” 

Malfoy nodded slowly. “And… And what happened to Yuyutsu?” 

“He survived, Malfoy. He won.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW! Theo in a bun. Theo in a bun. If you need a frame of reference, please google "Eren Yeager bun" and just... yum.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: dirty-mudblood  
> TikTok: dirtymudblood  
> Facebook: Sara DM


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